


A Coin of Magic and Fire

by SkyWire



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Arthur has some secrets of his own, BAMF Arthur, BAMF Merlin, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gwen knows what's up, Idiots in Love, Internal Conflict, M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Mutual Pining, Post-Magic Reveal, Screw you season 5 ending, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, so do the Knights, you are not welcome here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyWire/pseuds/SkyWire
Summary: Magic has been outlawed in Camelot since before Arthur was born, and he grew up to lessons teaching it as something to be feared, something of pure evil. The notion had never sat right with Arthur, and there were days where he swore there was someone, or something, following and guiding his every step, all the way back to his earliest memories. Despite this, Uther was his father, his King, and he had no cause to doubt him. Surely he was imagining things, surely this feeling of ‘other’ was just the mindless daydreams of a child who never really had a childhood.When the sorceress Morgause revealed to him the vision of his dead mother, who exposed a secret long since buried, Arthur’s faith in everything he had made himself believe began to crumble.Now the King is dead, Arthur’s taken up the throne, and he’s finally begun to question just how evil magic truly is. It had taken his mother’s life, but it had brought him into this world in turn. Magic had given him life, and maybe a little something more…was that such an evil thing?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Welcome to my very first attempt at a Merlin fic! I know I'm a few (a lot) years late on this, but this idea popped into my head and I couldn't shake it. Besides, there's never a bad time to write some Merthur. Anyway, this is going to be my first ever attempt at a multi-chapter story. I hope to update semi-regularly (or even more frequently if the muse allows it), so stick around and enjoy! Rating and tags subject to change. I'll let you guys know if that happens though!
> 
> This story is going to take place sometime between the end of season 4 and the beginning of season 5. Some things will remain the same but the majority of it will be altered because I will never forgive the writers for the series final and I intend to fix it in my own way!
> 
> As usual, this is not beta-read. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Enjoy!

Rain, Arthur had decided, could bloody well sod off forever for all he cared. For the past four days a relentless downpour had seen the streets of Camelot slick with mud, making the cobbled stones and dirt paths of the upper and lower towns a perilous endeavor to tread, forcing most residents into their homes to wait out the weather.

Staying cooped up within his chambers had never been an ideal situation to Arthur, even before he became king, and yet here he was, seated at his desk with legal documents strewn about, multiple candles alight throughout the room to combat the cloudy sky outside. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the polished wood of his chair as he mulled over a document regarding a land dispute between two boarding kingdoms to the north, and honestly Arthur was bored of it. Could no one simply come to their own solutions without dragging his kingdom into it? Was this what it was to be a king?

_No wonder my father was always so sour._

Dropping the parchment to the table in aggravation, Arthur reached up both hands to rub them across his tired face, fingers grazing against the light stubble that had grown there. Oh how he wished the sodding sun would remerge from the sky, drying away the wetness and chill that had seemed to become a permanent resident of Camelot as of late, and allow him to actually _do_ something. He had been unable to train with his knights since the rains started; at the pestering requests of his advisors that he might catch cold, as if he were a _child_. Gwenevere had not even been on his side in that argument, insisting that he would be in no condition to rule his kingdom if he were to become ill, when they both knew full well that she would be more than able to rule in his stead should the need arise.

Sometimes she would fret as a mother would.

The thought, although an innocent subject, instantly made Arthur’s heart ache in his chest. The thought of his mother, and that vision the sorceress Morgause had given him, was never too far from his thoughts these days. Ever since Oden’s assassin had murdered his father nearly three years ago, thrusting the title and burden of king onto his shoulders much too soon, Arthur could only yearn to have his mother by his side. To now have lost both parents to this world was sometimes almost too much to bare, and a single, taunting word would invade his thoughts at the most undesired moments of self-reflection.

_Orphan._

Standing up abruptly, Arthur pushed away from his desk and turned to face the window, his reflection gazing back at him with troubled eyes. He lost track of time, watching individual raindrops slide their way down the window’s glass, and nearly missed the door to his chambers opening and closing behind him.

“Arthur?” Came a gentle voice that normally left him exasperated, but today seemed to immediately calm his frazzled nerves. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

Turning around, Arthur forced the haze from his eyes to connect them with the earnest blue ones looking back. Honestly, it was a mystery how Merlin could go from the most annoying clotpole in the whole kingdom to the only person Arthur felt as ease around.

“Everything’s fine, Merlin. Just can’t wait for this rain to stop.”

Merlin gave him one of his looks that showed he didn’t believe him, but thankfully didn’t push the matter and returned to what he had been doing, which was apparently bringing Arthur his lunch.

“It’s noon already?” Arthur asked before he could think better of it, unsure how an entire morning had slipped him by. He’d barley gotten anything done!

Merlin gave him another look before replying, “Yes, and in another few hours it’ll be supper, then a few more after that and it’ll be time for your royal highness to get tucked into bed, and then after that-“

“Shut up Merlin.” Came the automatic response to Merlin’s irritating prattle, an involuntary smile tilting one corner of his mouth up at the familiar exchange. Seeming to brighten up himself, Merlin gave a cheeky smile before continuing on to serve Arthur’s lunch onto a silver plate, rambling on about some herb or other that Gaius had found that seemed to have properties that aided in decreasing swelling. It was all terribly boring to Arthur, but Merlin seemed to enjoy the topic, so Arthur was content to let his servant’s voice wash over him as he sat down and began to eat.

It wasn’t a few moments more before Gwenevere was suddenly walking through the door, thanking Merlin as he began to dutifully pile food onto another plate set out for her.

“So ravenous that you couldn’t wait for me Arthur?” Gwen teased, and Arthur paused in his chewing to realize that he had quite forgotten about waiting for her entirely.

“I’m afraid our king is a bit on the slow side today.” Merlin teased, sharing a glance with Gwen as they chuckled at his expense.

“Now see here, Merlin-“Arthur began, his fork pointed mock-threateningly at Merlin’s mischievous grin, but a swift knock to his chamber’s doors interrupted what was sure to be a cleaver and witty retort. “Enter!” he called.

Sir Leon strode through the door, decked in the full armour of a knight of Camelot, hand upon the hilt of his sword and eyes shining with purpose. “Sire, a messenger from one of the outlying villages has arrived. There’s been an attack, with reports of raiders invading from the west.”

His meal, which he had seemed to consume without really acknowledging any taste, was entirely forgotten as Arthur thanked Leon and instructed that he convene with the other knights and advisors in the council chamber to await his arrival.

“Seeing as I do not require to be dressed, I will meet you with the other council members when you are ready.” Gwen said, standing and running nimble fingers down the front of her dress to flatten any wrinkles. Arthur nodded his head in acknowledgment, and with a brief parting kiss Gwen disappeared through the door.

It was almost unnerving how naturally Merlin and he seemed to fall into the routine of dressing Arthur for the meeting. It really took no time at all before he was standing proud in gleaming chainmail and crimson cape, Merlin synching the fastenings around his neck securely before smoothing the material over his shoulders. The familiar routine seemed to be what was needed to remove any lingering thoughts of his parents from his head, and Arthur gave Merlin’s shoulder a warm squeeze in thanks.

“Are you sure you’re okay Arthur?” Merlin asked, and it was only when Arthur looked up that he realized just how close the two were standing, and that his hand was still gripping tight to Merlin’s shoulder. He instantly pulled his hand away, and felt his body betray him as heat flushed up his neck to his cheeks.

“No need to get all weepy on me Merlin. I’m fine.” He joked, shoving Merlin to the side as he strode from his chambers towards the council hall, a quick glance cast behind him to ensure that he was being followed. Of course he was, Merlin stumbling after him, grumbling something about being “ _emotionally stunted_ ”, and the familiar banter instantly put Arthur’s heart at ease.

Regardless of his personal troubles, he had a kingdom to protect, and he would not fail his duty.

It was only a few moments later that saw Arthur standing in front of his throne within the council room, armour shining and cape draped behind him, a picture of composted royalty. Gwen was seated to his left and Sir Leon stood to his right, the rest of the hall filled with his advisors, his most trusted knights, and Merlin and Gaius. As he stood waiting, the council room’s doors opened to make way for two of his guards escorting a young woman to stand before him.

It was immediately apparent that this was no simple skirmish between neighbouring villages. The girl was soaked to the bone, her tattered dress caked with mud and filth. Instantly Arthur indicated for one of the guards to bring the girl a blanket, and watched at the shivering girl glanced about nervously, as if anticipating an attack. When the blanket came and the girl wrapped within it, Arthur took a gentle step towards her and leaned down to her height.

“Hello.” He began softly. “My name is Arthur. What’s yours?”

It took a moment, but eventually the girl’s frightened eyes fixed onto Arthur’s own, and she stuttered out a quiet “Marie.”

“Marie” Arthur began again, “Could you tell me what’s happened?”

It took another moment, but finally the girl seemed to muster up enough courage to speak before the court. She spoke of how the rains had been just as harsh in the outlying villages as it was at the heart of Camelot, how the crops were beginning to drown in the fields, and how in their desperation one of the village folk had appeared to use magic in an attempt to force the rains to end. Murmurs and whispers followed the utterance of the possibility of sorcery within the kingdom, but Arthur push the girl for more, eager to learn how a plea for better weather could have ended with this girl in such a state.

“Some folks disagreed with his choice, Sire. We know the laws, but the crops were dying, ya see? We didn’ know what else to do, and he was just tryin’ to help…but then, as if drawn by the magic, we were attacked by raiders. They came from nowhere, demandin’ we give ‘em everything we have. But my gran, she ran the village, she told ‘em to leave and people were screaming and the leader, he killed my gran…right in front of me…oh gods! We’re being punished for trying to use magic, I know it, I told him not to!” Collapsing to her knees before Arthur, the girl broke off into sobs, clutching at the blanket wrapped around her like a shield.

Gwen was instantly out of her throne and at the girl’s side, arms wrapped about her and murmuring soothing words to calm her down. Arthur’s stomach twisted further and further as the girl pulled herself together to finish her story; how she watched as all those who fought back were slain, how she had barely escaped with her life, and how every moment spent delaying could cost another innocent villager their life. After the story was complete, he could not deny the need to remove the guilt haunting the girl’s eyes.

Placing his hand beneath her chin, Arthur gently lifted the girls gaze to his own. “You are right, magic is still outlawed, but I will not condemn you or your people for their pure intensions. You sought only to save your people, and I see no crime in that. These men attacked you because they are cowards and criminals, and we will hunt them down and ensure they cannot hurt anyone ever again. You have my word.”

Marie seemed speechless as her watery eyes lay transfixed upon his own, a quick nod of her head showing that she believed him, eyes tracking him almost reverently as he stood to full height, arranging to have a room and hot bath prepared for her. Then, with a wave of his hand, the guards gently guided to girl out of the council room, his advisers following close after and the heavy wooden doors closing behind them. Looking to the remaining faces in the room; Gwen, Leon, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, Gaius and Merlin; Arthur indicated for them to follow him to the throne room, where the Round Table was kept, commanding Gwaine to fetch the other knights for an urgent meeting.

"Make sure that you bring Mordred this time as well. It will be a good learning opportunity for him." he added, and Gwaine gave a curt nod as he strode towards the armory.

It appeared that the time for being cooped up in his chambers with his thoughts was at an end, and Arthur could hardly wait.

He and his trusted men trod purposefully down the hall, Gaius parting ways as they passed his chambers, and the doors to the great hall opened to reveal the Round Table in all its glory. Candlelight and the faint glow of the obstructed sun gleamed off the polished wood, and Arthur ran his fingers along its smooth surface as he made his way to his chair on the far end. Gwaine soon returned with his remaining knights, and they took their seats as Merlin dutifully stood at his shoulder, and oh how Arthur yearned to give him a chair by his side. He may not have been a knight, but Arthur could think of no other that he trusted more than Merlin. None of his knights. Not even Gwen.

As usual this line of thinking, and where it always certainly led, squeezed his heart painfully, and it took great effort to push the thought away entirely to focus on more pressing matters. He was King, and as such there was a doctrine expected of him to follow. For the good of his kingdom. For the good of his people.

_Stop thinking about it and focus!_

In the end Arthur had decided to take Percival, Gwaine, Elyan and two new recruits, Marcel and Nicola, with him on the mission to relieve the village of their unwanted hosts. The girl, Marie, had reported only a handful of men had invaded, and Arthur felt confident that he and his men could handle them. He would be leaving Leon, Mordred and the rest to look after the kingdom until his return.

Their conference, and all preparations for his brief departure, had taken the better part of the afternoon into the evening, and before Arthur knew it the sun had set. “Are you sure it’s wise to bring so few men?” Merlin asked as he prepared Arthur’s things for the two day journey ahead. “I mean, the girl could have counted wrong. Or maybe more have shown up. Maybe it would be wise to send a scout first, or at least bring more-“

“Merlin, enough.” Arthur groaned, twisting about behind the changing screen in his chambers as he undressed for bed. “I will not sit idly by as my people are attacked, and I have full trust that my men will be able to handle them. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

“I _do_ trust you. But this whole thing is making me uneasy.” Arthur could hear Merlin shove something into one of his bags with a little more force than strictly necessary, and let out a sigh as he stuck his head out to gaze as his clearly displeased servant.

_No, for a while now that title didn’t seem right. His friend? Better, but still lacking…_

“If you don’t want to come because you’re scared…” Arthur teased, and instantly Merlin was scoffing, the sound rumbling in his throat as he gave Arthur a look that clearly conveyed how ridiculous he found the notion.

“And who would be there to make your breakfast, hmm? Gwaine? Leon? I doubt it, and we all know how you are if you haven’t eaten anything.”

“ _Mer_ lin…” Arthur warned, coming around the change screen dressed in only his sleeping trousers. There was no true heat to his warning though. It was true, he was a nightmare if he missed a meal.

 _And yet Merlin’s never truly complained._ Arthur shook the thought away immediately, unwilling to examine that line of thinking any further. Merlin was a loyal servant, that’s all it was. “Get some sleep” he finally managed, pushing himself under the smooth red and white sheets and nuzzling into the fluffed pillows, turning to face away from Merlin. “We leave first thing tomorrow.”

He heard the rummaging sounds of Merlin placing his packed bags to the side of the room to be picked up in the morning, and the quiet puff of breath as he blew out the remaining candles in the room. Smothered in darkness, Arthur settled into his bed, sleep nearly claiming him before a whispered “Goodnight Arthur” followed him into his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. 
> 
> Enjoy!

If Arthur believed in miracles, he would have believed that the rains finally running dry mere moments before departure to be one. After four days and five nights, it appeared that the sky had nothing left to give, clouds parting to allow the morning sun to begin drying the land. Gwen, radiant as ever in a flowing purple gown, walked with him to his horse where she bade him safe travels and a warning that he should return _or else_. Arthur smiled fondly at his queen as he bent down to offer a farewell kiss, and as he walked towards where Merlin and his knights stood beside their horses, he couldn’t help ponder why the act had felt more a habit than anything.

Shaking the thought away, he pulled himself up onto his stallion. Arthur observed as his accompanying knights mounted their steeds as well, awaiting him to lead their party towards their destination. Turning in his saddle, the smooth leather squeaking beneath his weight, Arthur watched as Merlin helped the girl, Marie, up onto a horse of her own and then swiftly followed suit. Merlin’s eyes caught his own and gave a firm nod to indicate that they were ready, and with a firm nudge Arthur urged his horse forward and away from the palace steps of Camelot.

They traveled relatively hard throughout the day, only stopping a few times to eat and water the horses before they were off again. No one seemed to have any complaints, as all thoughts undoubtedly lingered on the battle that lay ahead. Along the road, when they eased the horses to a light walk to let them rest, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan would begin picking fun of the new recruits, and before Arthur knew it both Marcel and Nicola sat backwards atop their mounts. The sight reminded him of how baffled Mordred had appeared after being talked into the position, and Arthur was unable to refrain from smiling as he turned to face forward again, but not before catching an equally amused glance from Merlin, an utterly baffled Marie looking on in confusion.

By the end of the first day they had covered nearly a third of the distance they needed to travel, and there were multiple groans of relief as the party unhorsed for the final time, removing bed rolls from bags in order begin setting up camp for the night. Without a word Percival and Marcel split off to collect firewood while Gwaine moved to help Merlin unload the dinner pot and food rations in order to begin making their supper, Marie lingering just behind as she debated on how best to assist them. Arthur sent Elyan and Nicola out to ensure that their camping site would be secure enough for the night, ordering that they return at once if any trouble was discovered.

Arthur busied himself setting up a mock-village in the dirt so that they could go over the plan again, sticks, rocks and leaves acting as village huts and other obstacles. It was a rudimentary example at best, but he was working with what Marie had been able to give him, and he would make do. He had to.

Fortunately, everyone returned without incident, and as usual Merlin had a roaring fire going within moments, despite the damp tinder. How he was consistently able to set a fire so quickly always left Arthur perplexed, but it was a welcome talent on cold nights, so he wasn’t complaining.

Once everyone’s bellies were full and the horses settled for the night, Arthur set about refreshing his men on the plan, and who would be in charge of what. The village was small enough that they could surround it easily enough, but the trouble was getting close without being seen. That would be Elyan’s and Gwaine’s job. Marie had said that the men came and went as they pleased, but there was an outcropping of bushes and boulders to the south that acted as an improvised pathway leading to the village, and that two men were posted there at all times.

Once the sentries had been disposed of, Arthur planned to let Marie go on ahead in order to warn her people of their incoming attack, and to urge them to take shelter where they could to avoid being caught in the crossfire. If Marie’s count had been accurate there would only be a little over a dozen raiders remaining after the sentries were taken care of, and while one part of Arthur knew that stealth would be the wisest approach, he simply didn’t have enough information of the land to successfully sneak up behind their enemy, which left one option at his disposal.

A direct attack.

Against twelve or more men versus his six.

On ground that was unfamiliar to them.

“Well, you know me. These are my favorite kind of odds.” Gwaine said, leaning against a nearby tree as he tossed a rock from hand to hand absentmindedly. “You sure know how to show us a good time Arthur.”

It had become dark, the fire the only barrier between them and total blackness, and it cast each member of their party’s amused faces in a warm glow. Arthur couldn’t resist a smile either, and soon enough they had worked out the finer details of the plan as best as they could and began readying for bed.

Arthur’s bedroll had been set up under a thick oak not too far from the fire, a second one set up right beside it, and Arthur could help his contentedness when Merlin settled himself beside him for the night. How familiar this was, and how strangely comforting. It didn’t take long for the snores to start up around them, and Arthur settled himself more comfortably as the sound acted as a strange lullaby on his swirling mind. What if something went wrong? What if his pan didn’t work? What if someone…

“It’ll all work out.” came a gentle voice from beside him, and Arthur turned his head to meet eyes with Merlin, settled in his own bedroll no more than a foot away. “Whatever happens, we’ll find a way to make this right. We always do.”

There were a million things Arthur wanted to say as he watched the dwindling fire dance across Merlin’s face. How could he know that? Where did he get his hope from? How did he continue to put his faith, _his life_ , in Arthur’s hands and never once seem to question its safety in them?

_What did I do to deserve you?_

“Thank you, Merlin.” He whispered back.

***

The morning was an organized frenzy as the group set about breaking camp and covering the remaining distance to their destination. They had only been riding for an hour or two when Marie pipped up, informing them that they were close, and Arthur silently boasted that he had been accurate as to their progress and location. The horses were left in a sheltered quarry a ways off, and they walked the remaining distance, weaving through trees and shrubs until the sounds of loud, raucous laughter echoed not a league away.

Arthur instantly broke the group up, sending Elyan and Gwaine on in the direction of the racket so as to take the sentries down, while he and the rest waited in tense silence. The laughter eventually eased as whatever joke it was came to a close, and the knights chose that perfect moment to strike. It was less than a half hour that the two were suddenly remerging and indicating for Marie to follow them in order to warn her people.

Once they were out of sight and no further sounds of conflict were heard, Arthur led the remainder of his men, Merlin ever directly at his side, around the village perimeter to take up their positions. He had decided to break the remaining men into smaller parties; Percival and Nicola to one corner and he, Marcel and Merlin in the other. This way they could ambush from three different directions and maybe, just maybe, give the illusion of greater numbers, creating fear and panic.

Making eye contact with first Merlin and then Marcel, Arthur took a deep breath, drew his sword, and gave a sharp whistle. Then, with no further hesitation, he sprang from the cover of the trees with a battle cry, Merlin and Marcel close on his heels and their own swords drawn. Four other battle cries echoed their own, and the village erupted into chaos.

The raiders were clearly caught unawares by the attack, and Arthur and his men were quick to use it to their advantage. They pressed hard and fast, forcing the raiders to clumsily draw their weapons and franticly try to guess how many men were attacking them. Not many of the villagers seemed eager to fight, but a few picked up their rakes and brooms and began beating the backs of some of the raiders who had found themselves fighting off a knight of Camelot.

There were a few more men than anticipated, but Arthur was still confident that they could beat the odds. They had, of course, beaten them every time before. This battle would be no different.

Surprisingly, these men seemed to be well trained, and Arthur found himself having to put all his skill into the fight in order to come out on top. He stabbed and parried and ducked and slashed, but he couldn’t get a blow passed his scraggly, toothless opponent. The two clashed against each for some time before, finally, he got the upper hand and thrust his sword deep into his enemy’s belly. Spinning on a dime, Arthur turned just in time to counter another sword aimed for his leg, and a new dance began.

This fight took even longer then the last, and before Arthur knew it he was beginning the feel the strain in his arms. The raider he faced now was _big_ , and he was _strong_ , and it took considerable effort to block his attacks. To make up for his smaller stature, Arthur used his speed to his advantage, preferring to leap away than meet the man’s attacks directly. He was just jumping out of the way of one of his opponent’s slashes for his face when a distinct whizzing sound echoed through the air. Ducking on instinct, Arthur tracked the arrow’s sound as it flew by him until, not a second later, there was a gurgling, chocking noise and the sound of chainmail rattling.

Looking towards the sound, Arthur saw one of his new knights, Nicola, frozen where he stood, the arrow sitting halfway through his neck.

The horror of it took him a moment to register, and then he was screaming Nicola’s name as the body fell back, dead before he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Percival, who had been fighting beside him, shouted in rage and grief as he watched his friend fall, only to lunge as his own opponent with new, wild ferocity. Arthur quickly spun around to find the scum who had shot the arrow, catching sight of the man for a moment before his own attacker tried to use his distraction as a weakness. Arthur quickly demonstrated how misguided he had been.

With Nicola’s abrupt death lurking in their hearts, the Camelot knights fought all the harder. Where once there was restraint, now none remained, and all who faced them found their end at the point of their swords. It seemed to go on for over an hour, when in reality it was more likely half that, and by the end Arthur’s muscles were screaming for rest. It was worth it though, because the few remaining men were retreating, fleeing into the forest from where they’d come, and Arthur prayed that they had learned their lesson well.

There was one man left, who Elyan quickly took care of, and then the sounds of battle were silenced. Some of the villagers still standing seemed to be caught in a post-daze as they dropped their makeshift weapons and turned towards the forest edge where their people had fled, likely to call them back now that the danger was over. Arthur hoped that Marie was alright.

The faint sounds of running footsteps could still be heard in the opposite direction, a few remaining raiders nearly out of sight, but one of them, the man Arthur instantly recognized as the thug who had murdered Nicola, turned abruptly and scanned across the village until his eyes locked with Arthur’s. They stared off for a moment as Arthur’s fury grew, ready to make chase, but then suddenly his ugly face was splitting in a victorious grin that revealed rotten teeth, and Arthur’s heart plunged into his stomach as he abruptly recognized the distinct sounds of galloping hooves.

_No. This can’t be happening. It’s supposed to be over._

“Swords up!” he yelled, just as the forest exploded in a melody of chaos. There were men, _too many men_ , stampeding towards the village on horseback, swords raised high and out for blood as they shouted their war cries. The remaining villagers instantly lost whatever courage they had gained and dropped their makeshift weapons, fleeing into the opposite direction.

_Where did these men come from?_

“Come back! We have to fight!” Merlin shouted towards the retreating villagers, and both pride and fear gripped Arthur’s heart. He knew Merlin would continue to fight just as hard as any of his knights, but he desperately wished he would run and hide like the others. Merlin could hold his own, but they were hopelessly outnumbered, fatigued, and Arthur wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him.

_For all that is good in this world, just keep him safe._

A shoulder was suddenly pressed to his on either side of him, and Arthur looked over to see that his men were planting themselves firmly to his sides, creating a wall of sharp steel. There was no turning back now.

Just as the horses were nearly upon them, Arthur let out his own battle cry as he ran forward to meet their foes head on, matching cries echoing behind him as he charged. A horse and rider were almost directly upon him, but at the last second Arthur pivoted to the side, avoiding being trampled but a hairs breath. The rider, momentarily confused that he had not squashed him flat, hesitated just long enough for Arthur to reach up and snag his wrist, giving a great heave as he tore the man from his horse. The weight and force of it tore at Arthur’s shoulder painfully, but his refused to loosen his grip as the man hit the ground with a bone-crushing thud, his other arm swinging up to bring his sword down with fatal precision.

Arthur’s instincts suddenly screamed and he threw himself to the side, an ax hacking through the air where his head had just been not a second later. He then caught movement from the corner of his eye and swirled in a deadly twirl as he parried another sword aimed for his stomach, slashing wildly to force his opponent back so he could gain is bearings.

He was only given a moment before the two men lunged at him at once, and it took all of his considerable training to fight them off. This was now the second battle he and his men had fought today, and he worried that if he was fatiguing then the others would be too. As the ax and sword swung at him, he blocked and dodged, swinging to counter the attacks and force the men back. This gave him a moment to survey around him, and he caught glimpses of his men scattered about, fighting multiple opponents at a time, same as him. It was obvious that their odds had greatly decreased.

Shouting in desperation, Arthur threw himself at his opponents with a new determination; to get his men out of this. It was obvious that there would be no victory today, there were simply too many raiders, and the realization sat heavily in his stomach. He would do what he could, and find a way to make sure they got out of this alive. He had to. For this village, for Nicola, for his knights, for Merlin, he would see those still living to safety. He just had to figure out _how_.

A sudden cry of pain sliced through the air, and Arthur turned frantically to see Merlin falling to his knees as a sword was sliced across his thigh. Arthur’s heart froze in his chest as he realized he was too far away, he would never make it in time, and as the sword rose to cleave Merlin’s head from his shoulders, Arthur hopelessly threw himself towards him with a shattered, wordless cry.

Just as the sword seemed like it would make contact, there was a flash of red and silver, and suddenly Gwaine was there, tackling Merlin’s would-be murderer into the mud. Arthur couldn’t tare his eyes away, his relief a near palpable thing. It had been too close, he had been too far away to help, he had almost watched Merlin...

 _Oh god, Merlin almost died_.

Arthur’s distraction nearly cost him everything. His opponents lunged at him from either side, and while Arthur _was_ able to pull himself together fast enough to block the sword swinging to dismember him, he could not move in time to avoid the ax as it swung towards his chest and connected.

Or rather, it _should_ have connected, but suddenly the man’s feet seemed to slip from under him and his ax missed by a mile. It was an impossible fluke, yet another unexplained stroke of luck, and Arthur had a moment to gasp in relief as the weapon meant to kill him sailed harmlessly away. Unfortunately, the force of the swing sent the man barreling forward and into Arthur, the force of their bodies slamming together rattling his teeth, and they stumbled backwards in a tangle of limbs.

Directly into the path of a charging horse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I thought I had this chapter in the bag but damn, it was hard to write! Enjoy!
> 
> Some graphic-ish violence ahead.

The force of the animal was stunning, the horse’s chest slamming into Arthur’s already tender shoulder with all of the force of a battering ram. He was sent flying back, and in a numb sort of way Arthur could hear the man who had wielded the axe getting trampled under the stomping hooves. It seemed like a second and forever passed before he was smashing into the dirt with a nauseating crash and everything was flashing white, the ringing in his ears muffling the sounds of chaos around him as his body finally came to a halt.

All he could see was blue, and it took Arthur’s rattled brain a moment to realize that he was looking at the sky. Why was he looking at the sky? Had they won? Was he resting? He thought he could veigly hear his name being called, and he wanted to turn and see who it was, but moving seemed so terribly exhausting at the moment.

Suddenly there were two scarred, bearded faces peering down at him with wicked sneers, and reality came barreling back as two sets of meaty hands grabbed hold of his arms and yanked him upward. The pain was blinding as he was forced upright, his shoulder and chest shrieking in agony, and he couldn’t stop his gasp of pain as he was forced to his knees.

Shaking the fog from his mind, Arthur lifted his heavy head to assess his situation, and dread filled him when he was met with the faces of his men, still struggling and spitting fire, but also with two or more men holding them in similar positions to his own, weapons held to their necks.

This was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. They weren’t supposed to _lose_ …

He forced his eyes to focus on each knight, trying to spot any injuries, but when his eyes landed on Merlin he was unprepared for the level of guilt he saw in them. What could Merlin have to be guilty about? It was Arthur’s fault that they were in this dire situation and no one else’s.

“Arthur! Are you alri-?” Merlin began frantically, but was cut off with a vicious backhand from one of the rebels.

“Ya best shut it, or I’ll ring yur scrawny lil’ neck right ‘ere an now!” the thug bellowed, but Arthur couldn’t stop himself from lunging forward with the rest of his strength, fury clawing his insides as he saw blood leak from Merlin’s nose and the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t you touch him! I’ll kill you if you touch him!” It was useless. He knew it was, that they might even kill him for it, but he couldn’t do _nothing_. He refused to sit docile while they awaited their impending deaths.

Come to think of it…why were they still alive? It made sense that they had spared him; perhaps the raiders had figured out just who he was and wanted to ransom him off to the highest bidder, but why keep the others? Not that he wasn’t desperately grateful that they were still alive, but the situation left him feeling extremely uneasy. This would not be so simple.

His reward for his outburst came swiftly in a hard blow to the back of his head, the shouts of rage from his men momentarily dulled. He couldn’t tell what had hit him, but it was hard enough to send his head buzzing again, and his eyes rolled around in their sockets as he tried to steady his already rattled brain.

“Easy there, Julian! Don’t wanna knock him senseless before we get to the point of all this!”

Forcing himself to look up, Arthur watched as a man, presumably the leader, dismounted his horse and stalked towards Arthur with all the confidence of a king. His clothing was noticeably newer than his men’s, which still wasn’t saying much, and a dark salt and pepper beard obscured most of his face. His hair was short and neat, at odds with his scraggly beard, and it was a strangely intimidating combination.

“It _is_ why we attacked this pitiful village in the first place, ya see? Everyone knows that if someone threatens any of the King’s people, he’ll come running like a horse to the hay.” He drawled, and Arthur bared his teeth in a snarl. “I don’t suppose you’d remember, but we’ve fought before. It was a ways back, different village, and you were a little princeling then. You came out on top that time. As you can see, I’ve prepared a bit better this go around.”

Squinting at the man before him, Arthur tried desperately to place where he and this man might have fought before, but whether it was from being hit by a horse and then hit across the head, or because he just didn’t have the faintest clue was anyone’s guess. The man, seeing Arthur’s continued confusion, gave a bark of laughter. It was an ugly sound.

“Well, can’t say I’m not a little offended you don’t recognize me, but I guess it was a long time ago. The last time we met was in that little dump of a village, called Ealdum or somein’ like that. There was a band of men, just taking what was owed, led by a man named Kanen.” Abruptly the man paused and seemed to suddenly stand taller, straitening his jacket and then tipping forward in a dramatic bow. “It’s an honour to finally meet with his _Royal Highness_ , so allow me to introduce myself. The names Kurt, Kanen’s brother.”

It took a second for the name and face to come back to him, but once it did realization dawned in Arthur’s eyes. The leader of the men who had attacked Merlin’s village all those years ago, the man who had led the slaughter of Merlin’s people like they were dirt and stole from them as they wanted, the man who had tried to kill Arthur himself, if it weren’t for that young man, Will, taking the blow for him…the man before Arthur was related to _him_?

This was no random raiding party. This was a trap, and Arthur had led his men into its snares without a thought.

_How could you be so stupid?_

“You…you helped raid Ealdor?” Came Merlin’s voice, and it was shaking with anger. No doubt he was thinking of Will too. “You and your brother murdered good people! You had no right to take anything! And now you’ve killed these people to get revenge for your murderous brother’s death? You deserve to be in the ground with him!”

Arthur opened his mouth the tell Merlin to shut it, the Knights shushing him as well, but it was clear that the pains of that day were still raw, and the fire in Merlin’s words echoed across the clearing. The leader, Kurt, stared at Merlin for a moment in silence, and Arthur’s fear skyrocketed as he watched rage replacing the calm amusement that had been there before. Then, between one blink and the next, he was lunging towards Merlin like a deranged bull, wrapping a hand around his neck and lifting him off his knees. The men who had been holding Merlin’s arms kept their grip firm, and at the awkward height Merlin couldn’t get his feet underneath him.

When Kurt’s hand noticeably tightened, Merlin gasped out in vein, mouth open in a sorry attempt for air, and his face instantly went red. Arthur and the others rapidly went into a frenzy, Gwaine’s threats especially biting, pulling desperately against their captors as they tried to get to the man who was strangling their friend before their eyes.

“Stop!” Arthur yelled, but had to pause to collect himself as an uncomfortably familiar stinging sensation attacked his eyes and his body flushed with unnatural heat. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut in discomfort, but pushed the feelings away.

_If you can ignore it for long enough it always goes away…_

“Please” he continued, “you can kill me, torture me, I don’t care, but you don’t have to kill him. Just let them go!”

Cruel eyes, raging with madness, turned to stare Arthur down, his grip not slackening in the least as Merlin’s lips became tinged with blue. “Don’t you get it yet, Arthur? I _am_ going to kill you, as slowly and as painfully as I can, but you’re going to watch your men die first. I’m going to murder them in front of you, just like how you murdered my brother in front of me.”

“No! Don’t hurt him, he’s innocent in this!” The stinging was getting worse, and he desperately wished he could press his palms to his eyes in a weak hope to relieve the discomfort.

Kurt only gave a short bark of laughter to Arthur’s pleas before a thoughtful look overtook his face. Coming to a decision, he finally released an almost unconscious Merlin, dropping him to the dirt like a sack of grain where he gasped to regain his breath. The fleeting shred of hope that had blossomed in Arthur’s chest was quickly withered to dust, however, when instead of leaving Merlin alone, Kurt circled him like a vulture until he stood behind Merlin’s crumpled body. He stopped, almost as if pondering his next move, and then quick as a snake reached down to pull Merlin to his knees by his hair.

Merlin let out a cry of pain as his head was yanked up and back, throwing his pale, already bruising throat into stark relief. Something glinted in the sunlight, and Arthur froze in terror as Kurt brought a wickedly serrated blade to Merlin’s neck. The knights instantly began fighting anew, shouting and hollering any insult or bargain that came to mind, but Arthur was frozen in horror. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose another that he held so close to heart, he couldn’t lose Merlin. He wouldn’t survive it.

_No, no, no please someone stop this-_

That feeling of heat suddenly, _sharply_ , shot through Arthur’s veins again with a renewed ferocity, and he gasped as he was overwhelmed by the sheer sense of _‘other, wrong, right, let it out, let it out, LET ME OUT’_.

Everything around him abruptly seemed to slow down to a crawl; he saw his knights, desperately trying to escape their captors, he saw the men standing around them, their smiles wicked and heartless, he saw Kurt standing over Merlin as he heartlessly prepared to end is life, and he saw Merlin, oh god _Merlin_ , forced back into an arch, blade pressed to his neck and prepared to slit his throat wide open. Merlin’s hands seemed to be traveling through molasses as he reached back to try and push the blade away from him, but then the blade began to move, both so slow and too fast, and Arthur’s heart tore in the most unimaginable pain he had ever felt as the first trace of blood escaped from beneath the steel.

_No, no, please stop it, stop it, STOP IT-_

“ _Stop_!” The shriek tore from Arthur’s throat in a ragged plea, but the red-hot flash behind his eyes cut off any further words as he screamed in surprised pain. That heat, powerful and consuming and terrifying and _familiar,_ burned through his veins as the world fell back to him in stunningly vivid clarity, sounds and smells and sights hitting him at full force, and Kurt, the man about to tear through what felt like Arthur’s very heart, was suddenly and inexplicably consumed in flames.

Shrieking in agony, Kurt instantly dropped the blade about to end Merlin’s life and fell back, withering on the grass as the flames consumed clothes and hair and flesh, the inferno rising to a raging peak as they ate away at everything in their path. Panic and fear quickly swarmed the remaining men who still held his knights, the sounds of their comrade burning alive echoing across the clearing, and every man turned to flee in the face of the unknown threat, shouting cries of _sorcery_ and _demons_ as they bolted, and the sight threw Arthur into an unfamiliar rage.

They were _fleeing_ , these cowards who had been about to slaughter his men, Merlin, this whole village without even a thought. They didn’t deserve to escape, to live as if nothing had happened. They needed to pay for what they had done; for what they had been to about to do.

_They’ll pay with their lives!_

This time the burning pain pitched Arthur forward and he just barley caught himself with his hands, fingers digging into earth. The heat, this time, was not just inside, but hot, burning, scorching against his face. Looking up from where he’d fallen, Arthur almost immediately looked away again, if only to deny what was happening before him. The field was on fire, on _fire_ , after _four days of rain_ , as if it had been a drought and not a downpour. The men who had been fleeing were thrashing within the fire’s greedy claws, and Arthur watched, as those around him did, in morbid fascination as their attacker’s mouths opened wide in useless attempts to scream, flames eating their skin, boiling their blood and charring their bones until nothing was left but a heap of ash.

And then, just as suddenly and violently as it had all begun, it stopped. The fire simmered down, unnaturally quickly, into dull embers in the dirt, until all that remained of the raiders were scattered piles of black dust.

Time had no meaning as Arthur knelt there in the grass, a ringing in his ears that sounded an awful lot like an echo of the cries of the men that he had just killed…because somehow, as impossible as it was, Arthur _knew_ that he was the one responsible.

Something ancient and voiceless, oh god he’d _felt_ this before, seemed to rumble in his chest, and it almost felt like…pleasure, at his acknowledgment. At his admittance that it existed…whatever the hell _it_ was. Arthur wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to burry this _thing_ back down into the dark pit inside himself where he’s always pushed it and forget any of this had ever happened.

When was life ever that kind though?

So lost in the churning chaos that was his tangled soul, Arthur was entirely unprepared for a pair of warm hands to suddenly grab hold of either side of his face, and it was so unexpected that he instinctively went to throw his attacker off of him. His hands had just wrapped around two thin wrists before his awareness came back to him, and Arthur looked up to meet a concerned pair of shimmering eyes. _Merlin’s_ eyes, wide and blue and shinning, determinedly holding eye contact as he spoke to Arthur in hushed tones, gently coaxing him out of his daze.

His voice was off, and it took Arthur a second to understand why. It wasn’t a few moments later that Arthur’s eyes were drawn down to the finger-shaped bruises that encircled Merlin’s neck, watched as they actually seemed to darken before his eyes, and any lingering heat that had been burning through his veins was instantly doused in ice. Distantly, the near-constant feelings of guilt and inadequacy that had haunted him since his father’s death seemed to rear their ugly heads, and they were quick to remind him of how he had been just as useless in helping Merlin as he had been in failing to save his father.

Despite Arthur’s mounting despair, Merlin’s gentle words kept coming, slightly hoarse but calm and steady, and two rough thumbs gently smoothed back and forth across his cheeks. Arthur still couldn’t quite grasp what Merlin was saying to him, but his voice always had a strong effect on his heart; whether that was to make it flutter in exasperated fondness or beat rapid-fire in overwhelming annoyance was dependant on the day, but right now it was more soothing than any sonnet he had ever heard. Arthur hadn’t even been aware that he’d been hyperventilating, but gradually the world stopped spinning and sounds returned to normal, the tightness in his chest easing, and breathing began to feel just a little bit easier.

His grip didn’t once waver from their desperate hold on Merlin’s wrists because this was good, this made sense, and this was _safe_. Merlin was safety, he felt like _home_ , and while a part of him flinched from the naked truth of it, cowered into the deepest parts of his heart where it couldn’t be hurt, the largest, most dominating part? Amongst the ash and the death and the flames and this wretched fear of the unknown? It yearned to embrace it and admit it and to the world, scream it to the sky and anyone who cared to listen, so long as Merlin didn’t let go of him.

_Please don’t let go of me._

His desperation must have been laid bare across his face, because Merlin only seemed to hold him tighter, and he could finally hear his words, hear him saying it was going to be okay, that they’d figure this out. It was maddening, how Merlin just seemed so sure, so determined that this could all be fixed, but Arthur was utterly powerless against that conviction. He could do nothing, in fact, except believe with all of his heart in the blue-eyed ray of hope knelt before him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some (more) angst!

The next couple hours passed by in a blur. Between convincing a near catatonic Arthur to get to his feet, rounding up the rest of the knights and collecting their fallen comrade, he had is hands full; all not even counting the massive surprise of Arthur…Arthur having…

No, it was all simply too much to process at once, so Merlin focused on one task at a time, methodically flowing through the motions with shaking hands and a wickedly sore throat. The knights, fortunately, seemed to be able to push their own churning emotions to the side in order to assist with returning the villagers to their home, stiff smiles and jerky handshakes betraying their internal turmoil over what they had all just witnessed. It almost seemed like a dream, too outlandish to be real, and were it not for the scorch marks along the grass and the lingering smell of charred meat, Merlin could almost convince himself that he had hallucinated from the strangling.

Arthur himself appeared no better than the rest, arms folded tightly across his chest and shoulders hunched as he faced away from the main group. It was a stance Merlin had only seen the King adopt during rare moments of insecurity or aguish, and Merlin’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs at the sight. What a cruel mistress fate was, Merlin decided, that it would give Merlin this unparalleled, impossible circumstance to bridge the gap his secret naturally created between him and Arthur, but in such an aggressive, destructive way. Merlin had always seen his magic as this beautiful catalyst of nature, easily wielded for destruction if the need arose, but also able to create and build. The violent inferno that Arthur had released had seemed fuelled by sheer emotion, no inkling of control, and Merlin wondered just how long Arthur had been keeping this power stifled and quiet.

He refused to think of the  _cause_  of said emotional avalanche, lest his heart gain hope where there was none. Arthur would have reacted similarity if any of his knights were threatened in the same manner. It was an undeniable, well-known fact about his King; that he would do whatever it took to ensure the safety of his people, regardless of their social status, and put his life in the crossfires if he deemed it necessary.

Arthur was nothing like Uther, but Merlin couldn’t help but wonder and worry at this new development. Had the old King known? How long had this power been lying dormant within the then-prince? Had he been forcing Arthur to keep this…force inside of him a secret all these years, or had Arthur remained quiet his whole life out of fear of his father’s wrath?

None of the possibilities sat well with Merlin, and he resolved right then and there, probably the moment that the first man burst into flames, that he would help Arthur in any way that he could. Perhaps this was a gift; that now that they both had this undeniable similarity, Merlin would be able to teach Arthur how to control this mysterious force, to not be afraid of it and maybe, just maybe, alter his view on magic completely.

The last horse was finally saddled and ready for departure, and Merlin called out to the men that they were able to take their leave when ready. When all acknowledged his words except Arthur, Merlin watched as Gwaine moved towards him with fidgeting hands and a cautious step. While Merlin could understand the caution, he also hated it. Percivil and Elian were doing a good job of keeping the newest recruit occupied with some mindless tasks, having already carefully bundling their fallen comrade Nicola onto a rickety old cart, willingly offered from one of the villagers, and Merlin was grateful for their tact. While he felt reasonably certain of the original knight’s loyalty, despite this shocking development, he had no previous experience with Marcel. He would be keeping a close eye on him.

When Gwaine reached the King he seemed to pause a moment, whether to allow Arthur the chance to address him first or because he was nervous was unclear, but he eventually reached out a tentative hand and placed it gently on Arthur’s tense shoulder. Instantly Arthur flinched away from the contact, eyes flashing wildly as he looked at Gwaine’s still outstretched hand in fear, and Merlin’s heart sank when he realized the King was looking for any sign of burns.

Noticeably shocked but with a gleam of determination, Gwaine regained the space between them and pulled his glove off his hand, shoving it into Arthur’s line of sight with an urgency that seemed to shock both men.

“ _Look_. Nothing’s burnt. Not a scratch.” He fiddled with his glove as he replaced it, and Arthur seemed to visibly relax, if only just, at the knowledge that he hadn’t harmed one of his men. “Listen Arthur…I don’t know what just happened, and I’m confused as all hell, but whatever that was…you saved Merlin, and the rest of us. For now that’s enough, but we need to start heading back to Camelot.”

Arthur seemed to tense again at the thought of returning home, but he gave a stiff nod of his head and turned for the horses. Marcel was already on his horse beside Elian, who seemed to be actively avoiding looking at Arthur, but as he passed Percivil gave Arthur a nod and an uneasy pat to his shoulder. Honestly, Merlin thought their reactions could have been much worse.

Finally coming to stand beside Merlin and their horses, Arthur paused, gripping the saddle so tightly his knuckles turned white, and Merlin watched as he made three aborted attempts to turn and look at him. Just when Merlin was going to reach out and bridge the gap himself, Arthur finally turned to face him, eyes filled with a false confidence proven by his unwillingness to meet Merlin’s desperate gaze. Those eyes, the colour of a clear sky or the rolling ocean, roamed as he looked Merlin up and down in a quick glance. “Are you alright?”

For some reason Merlin didn’t actually expect Arthur to say anything to him, but now that this tentative branch had been offered he was desperate to keep hold of it, keep Arthur talking to him and preventing him from withdrawing from this. “I’m alright. Arthur, thanks to you I still have my head. Thank you.”

Arthur scoffed as he turned back to his horse, adjusting the leg stirrups with unsteady fingers. Merlin knew he was just using it as a distraction, he had set the stirrups himself, but his stomach churned with the thought of letting Arthur draw away from this, draw away from him, because he thought he was some sort of monster, so Merlin took a determined step forward and placed his hand firmly on Arthur’s shoulder, squeezing tight when Arthur tried to pull away.

“I’m not afraid of you Arthur. What that was, however it happened, you did it to save us. No one but the raiders got hurt, and you saved my life. Gwaine is right, if you hadn’t done what you did we would probably all be dead and you’d be on your way to some underground criminal auction.” Slowly, like calming a startles horse, Merlin allowed his hand to gently slide along Arthur’s shoulder to the crook of his neck. Without even intending to his fingers began to rub into his nape, catching and tickling the soft, slightly damp hair there. He was shocked but thrilled when Arthur hesitated for only a moment before leaning into the touch. “I’m not running away Arthur. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

An impatient snort rumbling from Gwaine’s horse seemed to startle Arthur out of his moment of calm, and Merlin had to push his disappointment down as Arthur pulled away from his touch, clearing his throat roughly and mounting his horse without another word. Merlin shot Gwaine an annoyed look as he mounted his horse as well, the knight holding his hands up in silent apology as Arthur set the pace for their journey home.

***

The trip was long and quiet, the pace slow and steady to not jostle the cargo they carried and voices, if any spoke, whispered in brief spurts. Merlin opted to remain at his King’s side, unhappy with the unusual silence from the man but pleased that he had not yet been shooed away for his hovering. If right now all Arthur needed from him was a silent companion, then he was all too happy to be there for him.

It wasn’t until the sun began to wane in the sky that Arthur finally called the party to a halt for the night, and his voice seemed to cut through the suffocating silence like a knife. Nothing else was said as the knights dismounted and began their camp routine, but Merlin hesitated when Arthur remained sat atop his horse. He was just about to ask if Arthur was alright when suddenly Arthur kicked his horse in the sides and it went barreling forward into the sparse trees, falling from sight quickly.

Alarmed, Merlin was stuck in place for only another moment before he too was urging his horse into motion, a quick “we’ll be back!” thrown behind him before the camp was far behind. His horse barrelled along behind Arthur’s, and when Merlin realized that the King clearly had no plans to stop anytime soon, Merlin pushed his horse just a bit harder until he was just behind him. “Arthur, stop!”

He didn’t expect his words to be heeded, when did Arthur ever listen to him, and they weren’t. Without looking back Arthur gave his horse another firm nudge, and it began to pull away again as Arthur lead it deeper into the woods. Cursing to himself Merlin resigned himself to follow, noticing that the trees were beginning to thicken around them, and that it would eventually force Arthur to slow his pace.

That moment came just a few yards later when Arthur’s horse abruptly decided that it could no longer trust its rider, and began to quickly slow down as the trees closed in. Merlin heard an angry grumble as Arthur seemed to finally decide that they had gone far enough, into the middle of bloody-well nowhere he might add, and when Arthur finally pulled his horse to a stop dusk had fully set. “Arthur?”

With a grunt of frustration Arthur all but threw himself from his horse and made quick, heavy stomps deeper into the woods, and away from Merlin. Everything muscle and mannerism radiated a clear ‘ _leave me alone’_ , but just as Arthur was terrible at listening to Merlin’s “annoying prattle”, well…

Merlin recalls a number of visits to the stocks that revealed his listening skills might just be similarly selective.

Merlin wasted no time in dismounting his own horse and quickly following after, his footfalls quick and sure as he covered the distance between himself and Arthur, boots softly crunching leaves and sticks beneath his step. “Arthur! Arthur, wait a second!” but as he reached out to grab hold of a tense shoulder a hard gauntlet was smacking his hand away.

“Leave me alone Merlin!” Arthur seethed, intent on continuing his trek into the woods, but Merlin wouldn’t let him hide from this. Wouldn’t let him deal with this alone.

“Arthur, we need to go back. If the sun sets before we make it to camp we won’t find it till morning, and the others are probably worried, and if they try to come find us they’ll get lost too and its dangerous at night-“

“I said _leave me alone_!” Merlin leapt back as Arthur rounded on him in a rage, and watched in fascinated horror as Arthur’s eyes flashed like a flame and the ground between them crackled with an angry plume of fire. It wasn’t particularly massive or violent, but it was enough to pull a shocked gasp from Merlin’s lips as he instinctively backed up from the heat. Arthur’s eyes were suddenly as wide as Merlin’s felt, and the rage was rapidly replaced by horror and pain as Arthur stumbled back, palms pressed to his eyes as he stumbled until his back hit a tree. Instantly Merlin moved to cover the flames in soil to stifle it and prevent an even larger incident, and then closed the gap between them in four determined strides. Arthur didn’t seem to notice his approach until he was directly at his side, and when Merlin but his hand down firmly on a trembling shoulder Arthur flailed away.

“No! Don’t touch me Merlin, I don’t know if I’ll…I can’t control…j-just stay back!” but in his haste to put some space between them Arthur tripped over a root and crashed backwards in a flail of limbs and chainmail. If the situation weren’t so critical Merlin would have thought the sight hilarious. Instead, Merlin quickly reached forward to stop Arthur’s backwards tumble, but he wasn’t prepared for the added weight of Arthur’s armour and the two of them tumbled headlong into the bracken. In Arthur’s hurry to be separated again he began to wiggle and squirm out from beneath Merlin’s lesser weight in jerky, panicked motions, and as the ground began to smoke beneath their entangled bodies the absurd _ridiculousness_ of it all finally drew Merlin to his wits end.

“Arthur, _enough_!” His voice carried sharply through the sparse woods, some startled birds above taking flight, and it was with alarm that Merlin felt his magic react to his outburst all on its own. He could feel it, perhaps more keenly than he had ever felt it before, as it reached out to bridge the gap between him and Arthur, seeking and prodding and searching, until it suddenly wrap tight around…something. It was _warm_ , fierce and irritated, Merlin could _feel_ it, and as his magic reached out to wrap around it in a soothing, churning caress, realization struck Merlin all at once. It felt like the air was knocked from his lungs.

This was _Arthur’s magic_. This is what had lay dormant inside Arthur for who-knows how long. This is what had killed those men who meant to harm the innocent villagers. This is what _saved him_.

It was _beautiful_.

Arthur let out a distressed moan, and Merlin reared back so quickly he couldn’t stop himself from landing heavily on his rear with a dull thud. Arthur was gripping his chest like his heart was about to be ripped from it, breath heaving through parted lips, but the high flush to his cheeks and dilated pupils didn’t speak of pain or fear like Merlin had assumed. It almost looked as if he was-

“What…what the hell was that?”

What was that, indeed?

Instead of answering him; hell, he hardly knew himself, Merlin reached forward and did the only thing his heart screamed for him to do, pulling Arthur towards his chest in a desperate hug. He didn’t know what he expected from the foreign action, but it wasn’t for Arthur to wrap his arms around his waist and yank him in just a tight. Arthur immediately burrowed his face into the crook of Merlin’s neck as his body shook with tremors, as everything just became all too much. Merlin would have held on to the embrace for the rest of his days if Arthur allowed it.

But of course, all too soon Arthur seemed to come back to himself, and with a final, deep breath he pried his weight out from Merlin’s arms, shuffling back a few paces for extra measure. To Merlin, the gap might as well have been the ocean, but he pushed the chest-tightening emotion to the side. “How are you feeling?”

Arthur seemed to straighten up some, arms coming around to loosely grasp his elbows in a somewhat defensive posture. No doubt the emotional vulnerability he had just displayed was throwing him off balance, and Merlin couldn’t help but agree to some extent. He felt as if at open sea, with no idea what lay beyond the looming horizon.

“Merlin, I…I need you to go back to the camp. You need to take the Knight’s and travel back to Camelot, and you need to…you _must_ tell them I was killed in battle.”

The words, though spoken clearly did not immediately register, leaving Merlin to stare in wide-eyed confusion at his King before the absurdity, no, the _ludicrousness_ of what Arthur was proposing sent his mind reeling.

“Are you out of your mind? Arthur, that’s insane! Why would you ever suggest something like that? What about your people? What about Gewn!”

Arthur met his scorn with his own. “What do you mean how can I suggest that? You saw what happened at that village as well as everyone else. I-I burnt those men to ashes, Merlin! With _magic_! How can I be expected to lead my people and uphold the law _against_ magic when I have it myself? It’s dangerous, Merlin! Camelot would be much better off without a King who’s so unpredictable, and Gwen is a strong woman. She’d make a good Queen-“

“Arthur, Arthur just stop. You’re talking madness! Do you even hear yourself? Camelot _needs_ you, magic or no magic.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin, they don’t need me. They need a strong leader, someone they can depend on to protect them. I can’t be that for them anymore.  How could I ever go into another council meeting, or…or train my knights? What if something angers me enough that I hurt someone without even realizing it? It happened today. I knew what I was doing but at the same time…it didn’t feel like…like it was all _me_. Like there was something else, and I’ve always been able to just…push it away, but then I saw that _animal_ about to kill you and it got so _loud_ …”

Arthur’s breathing had picked up as his tirade drew on, and Merlin finally reached to place a calming hand atop Arthurs own; clenched so tight as they were he was sure there would be deep grooves dug into his palms. They didn’t relax, but Arthur’s breathing was steadying, which was something at least, and as Arthur collected himself it gave Merlin a chance to organize his whirling thoughts as he thought over what Arthur had revealed. The urge to open up to Arthur, to finally say ‘sod it all’ and tell him _everything_ was so tempting…

“I sound absolutely mental. No one will follow a mad King.”

No. It wasn’t the right time. Arthur wouldn’t be able to handle any more revelations. This one was clearly more than enough.

“Arthur, listen to me. I will be by your side, like I always am, and that is never going to change. Your people won’t abandon you either. I know it. I don’t think you realize just how much they love you, Arthur. Of course there would be a bit of a…adjustment period, but I know they wouldn’t forsake you.”

Arthur’s eyes were pleading. Merlin could see that his resistance was beginning to crumble, if only just. “But its _magic_ , Merlin. Its-“

“Do you not remember…my friend Will?” The lying made his throat burn, but it was necessary, he could see that. As much as Merlin yearned to reveal his secret, to confide in Arthur and prove to him, _show_ him that their magic wasn’t a curse…it just wasn’t the right time. Too much had happened in the past day. It would be overwhelming now, but Merlin was certain, he could feel it in his heart, that he’d be able to tell Arthur soon.

 _Soon_.

“Of course I do. He helped us save your village.” Arthur recalled with a slight nod, adapting to the sudden change in topic with only a raised brow.

“Then you remember _how_ he did it. You remember how magic was used that day for _good_. And you remember that he…he sacrificed himself to save you. He didn’t have any motive, he was just…a _really_ good person.” Merlin had to blink rapidly to stop the sudden stinging in his eyes. It still hit him hard, from time to time, how much he missed his once best friend. “He was a good person who used his magic to save the village from those raiders. And _you_ , Arthur, are a good person as well, you are brave and noble and true to your heart, and you only wanted to save the lives of your people.” Merlin took a breath, resisting the tremble that yearned to take hold in his hands. “I would have died today if you hadn’t stopped him, Arthur. You saved my life. _Thank you_.”

Finally, for the moment, it seemed as if Arthur was out of arguments. His eyes, shimmering blue like the waves on a shore, bore so deeply into his own that Merlin found himself utterly captivated. It wasn’t often that Arthur’s emotions were on such full display; confusion, fear, sadness, desperation, _hope_ …but to be allowed to bare witness to such an intimate peek at what was churning inside Arthur’s mind was near overwhelming in its intensity, and he felt his heart thundered so loudly inside his chest he feared Arthur would be able to hear.

With the way Arthur was looking at him, he could almost convince himself that, just maybe, he felt the same.

Breaking eye contact abruptly, lest his thoughts carry him to where he could never go, Merlin cleared his throat as he stood up and arched his back, a few satisfying pops confirming they had been crouched for a while, before he turned back towards where he believed the horses to be, struggling to see through the gloom of late dusk. “I’m going to go grab the sleeping mats from the horses, then come back. There’s no way we’ll be able to find our way back to the main group tonight.” Turning to make sure Arthur posed no objections; and he really looked a sorry state sitting in the dirt with his face all blotchy, Merlin made his way as quickly as he could in the opposite direction Arthur’s mad dash had taken them. It was with a sign of relief that he found the horses without too much trouble, and only a little bit of magic, secured them under two sheltered trees and began his way back.

Arthur was right where he’d left him, eyes focused on the last remaining glimpse of the setting sun. Merlin left him to it, unrolling the sleeping mats and laying them side-by-side at the foot of a large oak. Without a word Arthur moved to take his place on the right, tucking his arms across his chest as he closed his eyes to sleep. Sighing, Merlin settled down to the left and tucked his jacket a bit tighter across his torso to hold in more heat; it wasn’t exactly a chilly night but without a fire it wasn’t warm either, and settled in for a night full of raging thoughts.

Some time must have passed, lost in thought as he was, because the shuffling and shifting beside him brought to his attention that it was now completely dark out, and apparently Arthur was having just as much trouble finding sleep as he was. He thought about speaking, about filling the silence with some mindless chatter to try and just talk them both to sleep, when suddenly Arthur shifted around enough that Merlin could feel the slightly fast puffs of breath tickling the side of his face. He was just about to turn over as well, without a clue as to what he could possibly say to help Arthur find sleep, when a soft, hesitant hand lightly brushed against bicep.

There was no way Arthur would do this if he thought Merlin was awake. He must have thought Merlin was asleep, with how long they had been laying there.

It took everything inside Merlin to keep his breathing steady, to not reach out and grasp that hesitant hand in his own and hold it to his heart, but he somehow managed, and was rewarded as Arthur’s hand finally settled in a warm, solid weight against his arm. There was another shuffle, a quiet, sleepy grunt, and Merlin could have sworn that Arthur had moved just a little bit closer. He couldn’t check to be sure, what with pretending to be asleep and all, but his other senses were on high alert as he listened to Arthur’s breathing began to even out and slow, those gentle puffs ticking the hair at his temple, and before he knew it Arthur’s familiar, quiet snores began to wisp out between the, surely minimal, space between them.

Merlin stayed awake for only a little while longer, and only because it felt like his heart was soaring.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are loved!


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